


"Hello, Old Friend."

by terrae



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Death as an entity, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrae/pseuds/terrae
Summary: Erik is Death and Charles is the only one who can see him.





	"Hello, Old Friend."

Charles was six when he first saw him.

He was coloring in his father’s lab, crayons sprawled in front of him while his father and his partner worked. Charles knew he shouldn’t disturb them, he’d been told not to and he was a good boy who listened. Halfway through coloring a page, he discovered he had forgotten to bring his blue marker. So he silently slipped down and ran to fetch it.

As he exited the door and started to make his way to his bedroom, he saw something – or rather someone that made him slow down and eventually stand still. He gazed at the figure curiously. It was a man, or the impression of him. He _looked_ like a man, slightly younger than his father but taller, and he had a beard. But he stood solemnly and so calmly that looking at him made Charles feel a little comforted.

“I’m Charles Xavier, are you here for my daddy?” the boy asked.

The man nodded and waited expectantly, letting the child’s curious eyes drink him in, then Charles pointed to the lab door and said, “He’s just in there, with Mr. Marko.”

He had never seen the man in their house before, nor in the parties that Mother held, but as he stared up at him he could only feel safe, not like when he saw Mr. Marko for the first time. He had felt uneasy Marko had smiled and patted his head.

“Thank you, Charles. Are you going away?” The man said, and his voice was hard to describe. It was serene and yet powerful, quiet yet attention-grabbing. The little boy was entranced.

“Yeah, I forgot my blue crayon. I’ve never seen you before. Are you my daddy’s friend?”

“No.”

Then Charles felt that he should leave. Then, it made sense that he shouldn’t hinder the man further, because even if he wasn’t friends with his father, they must work together. Later, he would know why he had left without more questions.

That day, Brian Xavier died of a chemical explosion that destroyed a significant part of the house and buried him under the rubble. His lab partner, Kurt Marko, survived.

*

Charles saw him again when was thirteen.

Marko married his mother. He had a new brother who liked to pick at him from time to time. He met a girl who was blue and funny and he made his first friend.

At first, Charles didn’t know who he was and assumed he was a friend of Kurt’s, but then he recognized the familiar pattern of thought and remembered the first time he saw him.

“You were dad’s friend. I saw you the day he die,” he said, the last part quieter than he had intended. The man regarded him with patience but when it was clear Charles wasn’t going to say anything further, he said, “I am not your father’s friend, Charles?”

“Who are you?”

The man said nothing, for a while. Then he asked, “Where is Kurt?” Later, Charles would learn that he didn’t need to know where his stepfather know, but he needed to distract him.

Charles wasn’t stupid, however, and a flitting thought made its way to his mind. He would use his newly-discovered abilities to find out who the man was. He concentrated hard, aiming to be as subtle as possible, which by his current standards meant that he was as subtle as a sledgehammer, and delved into the man’s mind.

Except –

There was nothing.

Where the man’s mind should have been was nothing but emptiness, a void that seemed so vast Charles thought he was going to get sucked into. He pulled back, gasping and realized he had fallen to his knees. There was something where the man stood that Charles couldn’t begin to understand, and felt the beginning of a headache as he started to think about.

“How can’t I sense you?” He said, forgetting every rule he had about not discussing his mutation with anyone else except Raven. “It’s like you’re not there – are you a mutant?”

“No,” the man said and made no move to help him up so Charles gathered his pride and stood. “You are clever, Charles. You will figure it out.”

Then the man was walking in the direction of Marko’s study and something in Charles made him move in the opposite direction, going to find Raven.

Kurt Marko died later that day of a heart attack.

*

By the time Charles was nineteen, he was preparing his university thesis and usually stayed on campus during breaks, when he was supposed to be home with Raven. This time, however, his sister insisted they celebrate Christmas together at the mansion as was their tradition.

It wasn’t difficult to understand how his mother’s condition got worse. She still had the housekeeper to keep things running, but as they arrived one day and went to greet her, she barely looked like the woman they had known.

Charles couldn’t remember the last time he had passed by his mother without smelling the sickening stench of alcohol. Some days she saw him in a hallway, paused, called him “Brian” by accident then shook her head and left. She had no recollection of it afterwards.

So when Charles woke one night after midnight to have a glass of water and saw _him_ , he knew.

The telepath wasn’t slow, and ever since he saw the man six years ago followed by Kurt’s death, he’d had a lot of time to figure him out. He knew now that the man was the one who had come minutes before his father’s death, and then Kurt’s, and when Charles had gullibly tried to look into his mind, he had almost blacked out. _He_ was what accompanied the inevitable.  

“Hello, Charles,” the man spoke, making no effort to keep his voice down even though the telepath was sure no one could hear him but Charles. The last time Charles saw him, the man had seemed older but now the gap didn’t seem as large. In the dim light, the man’s eyes looked green.

“You know you are not as sneaky as you think you’re being, right?” Charles said, the weight of what was happening settling in. The man wasn’t here for him, he was heading to another room.

“If I did not want you to see me, you would not have.”

“Fair enough,” Charles said, then he had to face the dread that was precipitating in the pit of his stomach. “At least she won’t feel any pain. She’s miserable here.”

The man said nothing, and no matter how much Charles wanted to uncurl his telepathy and delve into the man’s mind again like a caveman reaching towards fire for the first time, he knew that it would be futile.

“I’ve never understood,” said Charles. “Why do I see when you’re not here for me?”

“Frankly, I do not know. There are secrets of the universe that even I don’t know, Charles.”

Hearing his name roll off the man’s lips was the most enthralling experience Charles had ever felt; it was the minutest particles in the cosmos and the vastness of space at the same time, an infinite number of sounds and one. For a moment Charles worried if he were experiencing what his mother would go through in a few minutes, but he knew, it was not his time yet.

“Do you know if she’ll see Father again?” Charles couldn’t help but asking, hearing a childish echo in his voice.

“I cannot give you an answer.”

“At least let me say goodbye to her. Please.” Seeing what could only be interpreted as acquiescent silence, Charles quickly made his way to his mother’s room and pushed the door open. It was the first time he’d been in her room in years and surprisingly, it didn’t reek of alcohol like he had expected. Sharon was asleep, and it was only after he’d sat at the edge of his bed and looked down at her sleeping, frail form that he could see how tired she looked. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple so as not to wake her up. Despite everything, his eyes teared as he reached for her hand, holding it tightly. He didn’t know how long he had sat there for, thinking of stupid matters as a sort of distraction, but when he came to, Raven was screaming and shaking him.

The man was gone.

*

The last time Charles saw him he was ninety-four years old and he was getting ready for bed.

It wasn’t surprising, after all Charles had gotten used to seeing the man throughout the years as he came for people in Charles’ life, people that he had been near him near the end. But there was no confusion as to why came this time.  

He was here for Charles.

“Is it time?” Charles asked as he sat down on his bed. The room was illuminated by the lamplight and it was quiet outside, most of the students having gone to bed and the ones who hadn’t were pretending to have had.

The man nodded and though Charles had been expecting it, he was hesitant.

“I worry of what will become of the students.” They were like his children, all of them, and the teachers were his brothers and sisters. They were a large family, chaotic and dysfunctional but supportive of one another. Charles would miss them. He was afraid.

“Do not worry, Charles. They are in good hands. You have given them a place where they feel safe, a family, and guidance. You have done them well.”

There was it, the powerful voice that Charles had missed. “Yes, well, I know they’re going to be okay. They’ve got good teachers – Kitty, Ororo, Jean, Scott… Logan. I suppose you come for him a lot already, I wonder how it would be if he could see you.”

“I am not sure which of us would find it more unbearable.”

It was the first time he saw the man smile. In theory, it should have been the bleakest thing he witnessed but Charles felt comforted. He lay back and pulled the covers to his chest. They shared a silent moment where they stared at each other, a small smile resting on their faces.

Charles’ mind drifted to the people he had met in his life, the ones that influenced, the ones that influenced him, the ones that had come and gone quickly and the ones that stayed until the end.

Yes, they were going to be okay.

He smiled, “It’s good to see you again, old friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> And he greeted death like an old friend.


End file.
